Yule Shoot Your Eye Out
by Brittney373
Summary: Songfic - "Yule Shoot Your Eye Out" by Fall Out Boy. "Also, I meant what I said – I could care less. It doesn't mean I fancy you, it simply means I am rather nonchalant about your existence." An exchange of not-so-lovely Yuletide letters. Rose/Scorpius.
1. Chapter 1

**_A/N - _**_Okeley dokeley! Just another songfic because I quite enjoy writing them. The song's "Yule Shoot Your Eye Out" by Fall Out Boy. It randomly popped up when my music was on shuffle and immediately I thought of our beloved Rose telling Scorpius to bury himself alive for Christmas - and that's how this story was born! :D _

_Anyway, though I'm sure it's obvious, I'll mention that the bold italics are the lyrics, the italics are letters and the rest is...well, the rest. _

**Disclaimer: No characters recognisable are mine - ah, to be J.K. Rowling. Also, the awesome song that is so totally Rose/Scorp oriented is the property of Fall Out Boy. Just thought I should add that. :D**

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CHRISTMAS – SIXTH YEAR

_**These are your good years**_

_**Don't take my advice**_

_**You never wanted the nice boys anyway**_

_**And I'm of good cheer**_

'_**Cause I've been checking my list**_

_**The gifts you'll be receiving from me will be**_

_**One awkward silence**_

_**Two hopes you cry yourself to sleep**_

_**Staying up, waiting by the phone**_

_Weasley,_

_I just wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas before the holidays. I thought, seeing how we're in sixth year and the last few years could very well be the best of your life, it is time we dispel our futile little feud. We are, after all, school Prefects. We should be mature and put aside our differences. So, I guess you could call this letter my olive branch of sorts, a peace offering. Though, don't get it into your head that this is me surrendering or giving up. I'm simply being the bigger man (figuratively, of course, considering you are female, aren't you?) here. _

_Oh, while I'm able to voice my opinion (again, figuratively) without your rude and idiotic interruptions, I must ask a few things that have been on my mind. Why is it, __Rose__ Weasley, that you are dating Lysander Scamander? Okay, so even if we put aside the fact that his name is so ridiculous it rhymes (it sounds like some barmy name a Muggle would come up with for a grotesque, sneaking, deceitful rodent), he's still not all that nice a bloke. He only dates girls without substance. Trust me, I am male, I know how his mind works. He doesn't like you for your personality; you should be with someone who does. I mean, do you really like him that much that you're willing to put up with his absolutely obnoxious behaviour, his constant boasting about his Quidditch prowess and the fact that he believes in Nargles? Come on, you're too smart for that. You're better than that. _

_Actually, never mind, don't take my advice. They are the precise reasons you're attracted to him, aren't they? Because he's the polar opposite of you. Well, I wish you good luck with that._

_Regardless, since I'm of such good cheer, owing to the knowledge I won't have to see Scamander's ugly face for two whole weeks (except for at Christmas dinner), I will wish you a Merry Christmas again. I'm sure I will see you over the holidays anyway, considering I'm friends with Al. He's invited me to Christmas dinner at the Burrow. Yes, I know, what a great Christmas gift for you this year?_

_Merry Christmas, Weasley._

_Yours, ever so loathingly, _

_Scorpius Malfoy. _

_P.S. - How about I add some things to my list of wishes for you this Christmas? Alright, here's hoping that Scamander doesn't show up at Christmas, that way I don't have to see him. If he does, how about I insult him, make things a bit awkward? Yeah, I'd like to see ole Sandy Scamandy's face if I did that! Better yet, here's hoping that he finally let's slip his true intentions with you, and you cry that night, hoping he'll apologise and take it all back. I hope he doesn't; maybe then you'll realise there are better blokes for you than him. _

_Anyway, just thought I should add that. _

_**And all I want this year **_

_**Is for you to dedicate your last breath to me**_

_**Before you bury yourself alive**_

_**Don't come home for Christmas**_

_**You're the last thing I wanna see**_

_**Underneath the tree**_

_**Merry Christmas**_

_**I could care less**_

Rose couldn't believe her eyes. Scorpius Malfoy, the only non-relative boy she'd been able to maintain a stable and constant relationship with for the past six years, had sent her an olive branch that seemed to have many, many thorns on it. It wasn't that she didn't think him capable of the insults, that was, after all, the basis of their relationship – constant bickering and insults. But, she couldn't get past his audacity to actually insinuate that he was a better bloke for her than Lysander Scamander. Sure, he hadn't actually written those words, but it had most definitely been implied. And sure, she knew that Lysander wasn't exactly her perfect match, but it wasn't like she planned on being with him for eternity! That was it. She grabbed some parchment and a quill from her mother's desk before storming upstairs to her room to formulate her reply.

_Egotistical Brain-dead Prat,_

_You've got a bit of nerve to make fun of Lysander's name! What about yours – Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy? It sounds like someone ate a textbook and spurted out random scientific names for hideous mythical creatures! Besides that, how dare you insinuate that you know me! How dare you! I will date whoever the bloody hell I want! You are not my father and you are not my brother or any part of my family, which means that your pathetic opinion most certainly does not count! I could care less what you think!_

_Furthermore, consider your stupid 'olive branch' snapped and shredded to pieces!_

_Additionally, do not even bother coming home to the Burrow for Christmas dinner. If you do, I shall ignore you as if you don't exist. You do realise my family doesn't actually like you, don't you? They only tolerate you because you are friends with dearest Albus. You are the very last person I would like to have in my company this Christmas, much less as a 'gift' for me underneath the Christmas tree!_

_As for your idiotic 'Christmas wishes', do not even attempt any of those things! If you do, do not expect me to contol my anger, I know I can't legally use magic outside of school, but I won't hesitate to destroy your chances of having children (not that anyone would ever consider birthing your spawn)! _

_Here's my wish list this Christmas:_

_Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy, will you please jump off an incredibly high cliff, at the bottom of which there are lethally jagged rocks? No? How about you take a trip to the pet store in Diagon Alley then? I'm sure they'll be glad to see they've got their favourite ferret back! Oh, you don't like that idea either? How about this then, I would be eternally grateful if you followed through with this – find a nice spot in your back yard (or anywhere really, I don't care), dig a hole, crawl into it, then die slowly! I just know that before you die your last breath will be dedicated to cursing me. Indeed, a wonderful gift that would be._

_Merry Christmas,_

_I could care less._

_Yours nothing-ly (I will never, I repeat never, be yours in any instance!),_

'_That bushy-haired, ginger bint Weasley' _

_P.S. – Did I quote you correctly? I'm not one hundred percent certain, even though it seems up to your pathetic standard. Oh yeah, I still hate you, just in case you thought this reply meant otherwise – you seem pathetic enough to interpret it as such._

Scorpius couldn't help but laugh at Rose's reply. Some day she would come to realise just why it was she couldn't resist replying to his letter. Just as she couldn't resist retorting his insults – she couldn't ignore him, so she covered it up with hate. At least, that's what he told himself. He'd fancied her for a while now. Though, he didn't love her. He had no idea what love meant. All he knew was that he _had_ to get a reaction from her, he was attracted to her, and he couldn't stop thinking about her. She just didn't realise she felt the same yet. So he continued to taunt her. Her insults didn't hurt him; he didn't care as long as he got a reaction from her. It was all a game to him – the prize being the day he finally won her over, when she finally realised the meaning behind their bickering.

_**Happy New Years baby**_

_**You owe me the best gift I will ever ask for**_

_**Don't call me up when the snow comes down**_

_**It's the only thing I want this year**_

_Dearest Rose,_

_Happy New Years, my love. I would just like to tell you – I told you so. I told you that Scamander wouldn't be able to keep his trap shut forever. I told you he only wanted you for your beauty and body. Don't worry, I haven't told any of your family the real reason you cried yourself to sleep, the real reason Scamander hurried out of the Burrow at Christmas. Oh yes, Rose dearest, I do know the real reason. I know he took advantage of you. I know he cornered you on your way to the bathroom and had you pressed up against a wall. I know you pushed him off, disgusted. I know this because I followed. Yeah, I'm a creep._

_But don't say I didn't warn you. Don't say I didn't predict such things. And don't you dare try to tell me it was my fault. I may have said a few things and made it awkward, but he was the one who hurt you – not me. So, you gave me my gift. I got my wishes._

_I guess this means I owe you your wishes. Sorry – I've never been too skilled at diving without a broom – looks like the option of jumping head first into a heap of stone daggers is out of the question. And besides, it just isn't my idea of a self-sacrificing romantic death, on top of that, there are no exceptionally high cliffs near Malfoy Manor – couldn't give you that one. Well, I went to the pet shop; apparently it was my father they were missing, not me. Sorry I couldn't follow through on that one either. _

_Lastly, I'm at a loss as to where my shovel has gone. As it is dedication you were looking for in your last wish, I thought the Muggle way of digging a hole would be most fitting. Therefore, as my shovel has either (a) gone on a sabbatical or (b) vanished into another dimension, I cannot dig myself a hole and subsequently cannot bury myself alive. Consequently, I cannot waste my last breath cursing you and your tempting ways (though I doubt this is what my last breath would have been used for anyway)._

_Simply yours (I will always be yours in some way or another),_

_Scorpius. _

_P.S. – Perhaps you could send me a shovel?_

_**One awkward silence**_

_**Two hopes you cry yourself to sleep**_

_**Staying up, waiting by the phone**_

_**And all I want this year **_

_**Is for you to dedicate your last breath to me**_

_**Before you bury yourself alive**_

Sitting in the silence of her room, feeling rather awkward, Rose read and re-read Malfoy's letter several times. She couldn't make sense of it. There were hardly any proper insults in the letter. What the bloody hell had happened? Why didn't he tell her to dig the hole herself? Jump off the astronomy tower; take a visit to the pet shop herself? And why, _why_, had he said she was tempting? Why did he say he was always hers? Why had he called her _Rose_? What was going on? Confused, and consequently frustrated, she hastened a reply.

_Malfoy,_

_Firstly, do not call me dearest anything, let alone Rose – or 'love', especially if you have no concept of the word. Secondly, I don't care for the method of digging, as long as the hole gets dug and you crawl into it to die a slow death – that is acceptable. Thirdly, if you're not cursing me in your last breath, I would prefer it if you simply dedicate it to me – perhaps a simple 'Weasel-face' would suffice._

_Lastly, it seems as though you did indeed pathetically interpreted my reply to be something it wasn't. As such, I would be very appreciative if you would make no attempts to communicate with me at all for the remainder of the year – our lives even. And if it is an absolute necessity, I would be grateful if you kept it to the most laconic form possible. _

_I will not even dignify this response by signing it. _

Rose wondered whether or not Malfoy had sincerely meant to convey serious feelings toward her in his letter. She hoped that if it were the case, he was waiting for her reply and that when he got it, _he_ would be the one crying himself to sleep over her rejection. Rose physically shook the thought from her mind – Malfoy crying? What was she thinking? Malfoys _never_ cried. Ever.

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CHRISTMAS – SEVENTH YEAR

_**Don't come home for Christmas**_

_**You're the last thing I wanna see**_

_**Underneath the tree**_

_**Merry Christmas**_

_**I could care less**_

Rose had just discovered that Lysander Scamander, her boyfriend of, well, a _long_ peroid of time, had also been seeing a girl by the name of Felecia Carmichael. She was furious. He didn't yet know she'd found out. Rose didn't want to think about it – she knew that people would be talking about it. She knew that people would think she'd be heart-broken. But she wasn't, she had never loved him. Admittedly, she should never have forgiven him after that incident last Christmas. She should have seen this coming. Her cousins had warned her about him – Merlin, even Malfoy had seen it coming!

Her thoughts immediately turned from her anger toward Scamander to Scorpius Malfoy – she'd hardly argued or conversed (though it was rare) with him for almost a year. He hadn't made many attempts to communicate with her this year. It was odd. Normally he would take every available opportunity to insult her or strike up an argument. But this year, it seemed he had actually respected her wishes and avoided contact with her. He'd slipped up on a number of occasions; when such an occurrence took place, his insults were weak and their arguments could hardly be titled such. In one instance, he'd actually genuinely complimented her and _smiled_ at her – that had led to a rather awkward silence before she'd darted from the room.

Dispelling the conundrum that was Malfoy from her muddled brain, Rose smirked as she sat down in her favourite spot of the library. She would send one last letter before the Christmas holidays.

_Pathetic Excuse for a Wizard,_

_I would like you to know that we are over. Obviously, you do not love me like you told me countless times – that is, not enough to be faithful or honest anyway. And don't, for one millisecond, think that you have broken my heart and ruined me for all men. Trust me, I may have cared somewhat deeply for you, but you are not (and never were) my world, and I never intended on our relationship lasting past Hogwarts. Obviously, the feeling was mutual. _

_Regardless, I simply wish to inform you that you most definitely are not welcome at home this Christmas. There will be no repeat of last year – why I didn't toss you then is beyond me. Well, you're the last person I could be prevailed upon to see this Christmas, so you'd better not show up, or I might be forced into hexing you into oblivion. _

_Oh, just one last thing, you absolutely pathetic, unworthy, disloyal, Nargle-loving, idiotic scum of the Earth – have you ever realised how ridiculous your name is? It rhymes for Merlin's sake! It sounds like some barmy name a Muggle would come up with for a grotesque, sneaking, deceitful rodent! Well – they would've been right in naming you that if that were the case._

_Anyway, I shouldn't have wasted this much ink and parchment on you already._

_Never speak or communicate with me again Lysander Scamander, or I _will_ curse you._

_Merry Christmas (I don't care, I'm merely being the bigger man here – I think it's blatantly obvious that you are in no way whatsoever a man, and even I have bigger balls than you)._

Rose smirked once more, re-reading the letter before an idea occurred to her. Taking a leaf out of Malfoy's book, she signed the letter with a flourish,

_Loathingly,_

_Rose Weasley. _

She immediately felt elated and no longer cared that Scorpius Malfoy would be spending yet another Christmas at the Burrow. Though she was sure that would change when Christmas arrived.

_**Don't come home for Christmas**_

_**You're the last thing I wanna see**_

_**Underneath the tree**_

_**Merry Christmas**_

_**I could care less**_

Rose was startled as she woke to a loud tapping on her bedroom window. Who was sending her a letter at this time of night on Christmas Eve? She immediately recognised the owl fluttering outside. It was Malfoy's. Not only was it odd that he would be sending a letter at this time of night, but it was strange that he was _sending a letter_ when he was in the room across the hall from hers at the Burrow.

Feeling a little like she'd gone back in time a year, Rose opened the letter.

_Rosie,_

_I know how much you despise people other than your father calling you that, but I really don't think you could despise me more than you currently do. _

_Once again, I would like to say – I told you so._

_Yes, everyone knows about you and Scamander. I'm glad you finally came to your senses. Oh, by the way, Scamander felt the need to show your letter to anyone who questioned him about the break up. I must say, I felt a rather strange sense of déjà vu as I read it. It seems to me as though you plagiarised some of my best literary genius for your personal use. Though, admittedly, it was a rather comical read. _

_I commend you, Rose._

_I know it must seem strange that I am sending a letter when you are, in fact, just across the hall. My reasoning is this: Firstly, I knew if I knocked on your door to tell you this, you would most probably hex me into the middle of next week – and I certainly don't want to miss Christmas. Secondly, I thought it would annoy you to be awoken by a rather loud tapping, and you know how much I revel in annoying you. _

_So, Rose, I wish to tell you this:_

_I wish you hadn't come home to the Burrow for Christmas; you're the last thing I would like to see underneath the Christmas tree in the morning. And I mean this quite literally. I honestly would like you to be the last thing I see underneath the tree – you know how the saying goes, 'save the best 'til last'. Well, you as my last gift would complete my Christmas. _

_I know this is bound to confuse you, and you may not take me seriously. Because who knows, I could simply be trying to annoy and baffle you. Am I succeeding? I wonder. _

_Merry Christmas, Rosie,_

_I could care less._

_P.S. – I _could_ care less, which means that I do, in fact, care, leaving room for the possibility of me caring less. You see, I don't think you entirely understood this saying when you wrote it to me last Christmas. Or perhaps you did, and you were merely attempting to subtly imply that you fancy me. I guess we'll know in the morning, maybe you'll be all wrapped up underneath the tree for me – my own Rose for Christmas. _

Rose stared at the letter. Was he serious, or was he trying to rile her? Perhaps it was a combination of both. Rose contemplated wrapping herself in a large bow and sitting underneath the tree in a rather sensual pose, simply to humour the git. When she thought about it, he wasn't really _that _bad; obviously not if her family accepted him. Perhaps tomorrow, in the spirit of Christmas, she should be friendlier toward him? He had, after all, been rather nice to her of late.

An idea struck her – he wanted a gift? She'd give him one. She transfigured two spare quills. One she morphed into a rose, the other became a toy replica of a Muggle weapon. She tore off a scrap of parchment before composing a note to be attached to her 'gift'.

_Scorpius,_

_You said you wanted your own rose for Christmas. Well, I have so kindly given you one – once again, I have fulfilled your Christmas wish without mine being granted in return. Therefore, considering last Christmas you were ungrateful of my wishes and did not bury yourself alive, perhaps you'll use this Muggle contraption – it's called a gun – and you'll shoot your eye out? That would be an ideal gift._

_Also, I meant what I said – I could care less._

_It doesn't mean I fancy you, it simply means I am rather nonchalant about your existence._

_Merry Christmas!_

Rose read over her note. She was, perhaps, a little unnecessarily cruel to the ferret. Though, her resolution to be friendlier was still not being compromised.

After all, it wasn't technically Christmas yet.

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**_A/N -_**_Oh, and I have nothing against Lysander Scamander - I simply abuse him because his name rhymes, and it makes for quite amusing comments...well, I hope they're amusing! :) _

_Also__...Please, tell me - yay or nay? Review! I will be eternally grateful! :D :D :D_

_Yeah, pretty sure that's it now. Thanks a bunch for reading! .xx_


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: **As was with "Where Does Hyperion Fit Into It?", I've decided to add a part two to this fic. I really wanted to continue the letter format, but simply found it too difficult to write this part like that. So, again, I hope this lives up to the first part. (I'm a bit paranoid that I've destroyed my kick-arse Rose from the first part! O.o ) Enjoy and feel free to tell me the second part's shit! :D

(I'm not bothering with a disclaimer here, it's on the first chapter, so ner.)

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**JUST A RE-CAP:**

_Rose stared at the letter. Was he serious, or was he trying to rile her? Perhaps it was a combination of both. Rose contemplated wrapping herself in a large bow and sitting underneath the tree in a rather sensual pose, simply to humour the git. When she thought about it, he wasn't really that bad; obviously not if her family accepted him. Perhaps tomorrow, in the spirit of Christmas, she should be friendlier toward him? He had, after all, been rather nice to her of late._

_An idea struck her – he wanted a gift? She'd give him one. She transfigured two spare quills. One she morphed into a rose, the other became a toy replica of a Muggle weapon. She tore off a scrap of parchment before composing a note to be attached to her 'gift'._

Scorpius,

You said you wanted your own rose for Christmas. Well, I have so kindly given you one – once again, I have fulfilled your Christmas wish without mine being granted in return. Therefore, considering last Christmas you were ungrateful of my wishes and did not bury yourself alive, perhaps you'll use this Muggle contraption – it's called a gun – and you'll shoot your eye out? That would be an ideal gift.

Also, I meant what I said – I could care less.

It doesn't mean I fancy you, it simply means I am rather nonchalant about your existence.

Merry Christmas!

_Rose read over her note. She was, perhaps, a little unnecessarily cruel to the ferret. Though, her resolution to be friendlier was still not being compromised._

_After all, it wasn't technically Christmas yet._

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Yule Shoot Your Eye Out

– Part II –

Rose sat at her desk, still looking at the note and 'present' she'd just prepared for Scorpius. She read the note once more ... she'd called him Scorpius, not 'Malfoy'. When, and more importantly, _why_ had she started doing that? Right, she was just cutting him some slack because it was Christmas and because he'd been rather nice to her lately. This only caused her to contemplate the situation further, why _had_ he been nice to her? In his letter, he'd said he cared for her, wanted her to be his last and best Christmas present. What was she going to do if he actually meant it? How would she cope with knowledge that the boy with whom she'd had a steady relationship with, fuelled by bickering and contempt, for the past six years, _fancied_ her? How would she reply if he actually spoke such words to her, rather than writing them in a letter? She didn't fancy him back ... sure, he was admittedly really attractive, and she had to admit that when he spoke, it was like music – a deep bass drum – but did that mean she had feelings for him? Surely it was just pure physical attraction...

Once again, it seemed Scorpius had got what he wanted – Rose was thoroughly annoyed and baffled, with herself, and with him for making her feel this way. Well, she thought, sitting here all night won't solve anything. So, she picked up the 'gift' and quietly made for her bedroom door. She wasn't as idiotic as him; she wasn't going to send an owl at this hour of the night, particularly not when the recipient was just a few paces across the hall from her. She slowly turned the door handle, simultaneously opening the old wooden door. Everything was to be done slowly and carefully, as most things in the old house creaked, for the most part when one was trying to be quiet and unseen. Once she'd succeeded in opening the door without a noise, she stuck her head cautiously out into the hallway, ensuring there was no-one still up and able to see what she was about to do. It would be embarrassing to no end to have to explain ... especially should she be found by any of her cousins, Albus in particular ... they'd always teased her about secretly fancying Scorpius; said it was only a matter of time before she realised this and snogged the pants off him. Well, she'd show them! She may _like_ him now, but most definitely not in a romantic way ... she was sure of it. Wouldn't she know if she felt otherwise?

The hall was clear, so Rose tip-toed across, stopping just outside Albus and Scorpius' room. As she took her last step, the floorboard beneath her foot creaked, rather loudly. Cursing fate, the house and (just for good measure) Scorpius, she quickly placed the little package on the floor outside the door and began tip-toeing back across the hall ... hoping with all her being that no more floorboards would stress under her weight. It seemed, however, that fate, the house and Scorpius did not like being cursed, as with each step she took, a floorboard groaned in protest. She stopped in the middle of the hall, arms spread out as though to balance, ready to start her attempt once more. She stopped dead with a foot off the floor, however, when she heard the distinct sound of a door opening and closing behind her. Spinning around, her eyes fell on a pale, bare, and surprisingly defined chest. Realising she was staring, she lifted her gaze to the equally pale and attractive face of Scorpius Malfoy, who was grinning, his exposed teeth seeming more white than usual in the light from his wand. In his hand, he held the small package.

_Oh God _was the only thought that Rose could coherently process as he read her note and opened the package, right in front of her face. He was grinning still, perhaps even wider than before ... as though the note held within it a code that he knew exclusively. He took a step forward, a seemingly large step, she thought, and came to stop a foot from her. She felt rather uncomfortable being this close to his naked chest, especially when she, herself, was rather scantily clad in a singlet and cotton shorts. As though he'd heard her thoughts, Scorpius scanned her figure, and she was suddenly glad his wand was dimly lit, as she could feel certain heat creeping up her cheeks. What was happening to her? She _greatly disliked_ this boy! She should not be blushing just because he gives her the once-over! She should be disgusted, if anything! Coming to her senses, she cleared her throat, and felt triumphant when his eyes jumped to hers guiltily.

"So," he said in a deep whisper, "you're sending me gifts, now, eh?"

He was still grinning, and Rose wanted to slap his face. "No," she replied firmly, "No, I'm merely placing the possible means of your demise at your door ... prompting you to take my advice and shoot yourself in the eye."

He smirked. She hated it when he smirked ... he didn't always do it, usually he grinned, but now he was smirking ... she knew it couldn't be good. "Indeed. That might have been the case, had you not also included a rose ..." he twirled said rose delightfully in front of her face.

She hastily brushed it out of the way, looking directly into his gleefully dancing eyes. "I only included it because you said you wanted your own rose for Christmas ... What can I say? The Christmas spirit got to me. "

He laughed – a deep, rumbling expulsion from his chest.

"Shh," she hissed angrily, ignoring how pleasant a sound his deep laugh was. "Do you want to wake half of the house up?"

"No, not really ... I quite like spending time alone with you," his voice was that deep whisper again, and it only angered her more. He was confusing her again, and she didn't like to be confused. He was a git ... the world's biggest prat. She would _not_ fall to his supposed charm.

She took half a step closer to him; they were almost nose-to-nose as she tried to intimidate him. "You are _not_ 'spending time alone' with me. We're arguing in the middle of a dark hallway, over something so trivial as a stupid, mock Christmas present!"

His eyes remained playful, and she knew he was revelling in her anger. "Arguing in a dark hallway over something so trivial as a _wonderful_ Christmas present, we may be, Rose," he grinned now, and she knew he was about to win the argument. "_But_, are we not the only people present, and are we not spending passing moments of time together whilst pointlessly arguing? Hence, I _am_, in fact, spending time alone with you."

That was it, she could stand that self-satisfied grin no longer, and remembered why it was that they'd always bickered and she'd always scoffed at her cousins' stupid 'you secretly fancy him and just don't know it' theory – he was a _huge_ prat, and he nearly always won the argument. As petty as it may be, she hated losing arguments ... particularly to the likes of him.

She huffed in response and made to move, but, as she tried to turn around, she found that she was rooted to the spot. She tried in vain to move her foot again, with the same result. She was stuck, in the middle of the hallway, no less than five minute steps from her bedroom, with the boy she'd sworn to despise for the rest of eternity. _Great._

_(SCORP'S POV.)_

Scorpius watched as she tried in vain to move from the spot. He knew she couldn't – it was Enchanted Mistletoe, a Christmas special from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. _Genius_, he thought. He'd known it was there the whole time ... he'd planted it there. He just _knew_ that once he'd sent that last letter, she wouldn't be able to resist retorting; Rose would never back out of an argument, and he also knew that she'd try to prove she was smarter by delivering her response. He'd figured she'd probably just levitate it to outside his and Al's bedroom door, being as suspicious as she was, but he'd hoped she'd be annoyed enough to walk across the hall ... and he'd been waiting. Ever since he'd sent the letter, he'd waited on the other side of the door, listening for the tell-tale creak of floorboards that would prove he knew Rose Weasley a lot better than she gave him credit for. And he'd been right. All he'd had to do was take a step towards her, so they were both standing underneath the Enchanted Mistletoe, and it would trigger the charm. They were both rooted to the spot, and the only way to lift the clever charm was to kiss, or simply perform the reverse charm ... though he was quite certain she didn't know it.

She was looking up at him now, and he could see she was thoroughly annoyed. "Can you move?" she asked blandly.

He knew what she meant, he knew she'd realised they were stuck, but he couldn't pass up the opportunity to tease her. It was too easy, he knew she found him attractive – he knew it as soon as he'd caught her staring at his bare chest; it would be so easy to fluster her. And he liked her when she was flustered, more than he usually did, anyway. She was vulnerable when flustered, and perhaps she'd realise she liked him just a little bit more than she claimed.

He raised an eyebrow. "Can I move? Yes, I _can_ move ... I can move my hands," he placed his hands on her warm, freckled shoulders, and smirked as he saw her eyes widen with uncertainty. "I can move my feet," he inched forward and there was barely an inch between them now; even in the dim light he could see that her face was ablaze. He was succeeding in flustering her. He gazed at her intently and sincerely, hoping she would know he was perfectly serious as he barely whispered, "I can move my lips ..."

Her eyes darted away from his, and he knew he'd won. She was questioning her feelings for him, he knew it. She hastily tried to move back, and once again, she could not. It seemed that she hadn't yet figured out why she was stuck. He smirked again, his hands still firmly placed on her shoulders. She promptly swatted them away, and then pushed against his chest in protest.

Her expression was defiant. "That's not what I meant and you know it! I _meant_, can you _move_ ... backwards, from where you're standing now?"

He grinned now, her hands were still on his chest and he quite liked the feeling. It was just too easy to toy with her. "I'm sure I _can_, but I certainly don't want to."

He seemed to have ground on her last nerve. "_Malfoy,_" she growled, "stop being an insufferable git for five seconds in your life, and actually answer me like a normal human being. Can you move backwards? Because I've tried numerous times now, in a desperate attempt to leave your presence, and it would seem as though I'm stuck and cannot move from this spot ... most unfortunately."

Her face was still a rather bright shade of red. Knowing he was likely to get slapped should he continue in flustering her, he feigned contemplation for a few moments. He then sighed in realisation, fixing his eyes and wand on the ceiling above their heads. She followed his gaze and he watched the realisation pass over her face. He could virtually hear the clogs churning as she pieced together the situation. After a few moments she spat, "_Bloody Uncle George! _... I'll kill him!_"_

Ignoring her outburst and evident anger, Scorpius lowered his wand and grinned at her once more. "Looks like you're going to have to kiss me, Rosie."

As he'd anticipated, she glowered at him and hissed rather loudly, _"Don't call me Rosie!_ _And_, I will not _have_ to do anything, _Scorpius_; we just have to get Uncle George to reverse the charm ... No kiss needed."

She was pulling at threads, and judging by her expression, she knew it. He knew that she would avoid waking any of her family at all costs, as they'd find her predicament rather amusing. On top of that, they'd probably ask her how she'd come to be in her current situation, and he _definitely_ knew she'd rather not tell that story. He knew she was coming around, and she was annoyed about it.

He grinned at her triumphantly before throwing her words back in her face. "Shh, do you want to wake half of the house up?"

He watched her carefully. She seemed to be considering something, and he was quite certain she was contemplating how to hurt him, as she had no wand on her. After several moments' thought, and to his great surprise, she smiled seductively. Rose Weasley, the girl he fancied, was smiling at him ... _seductively!_

"No," she replied, the smile still in place, her finger brushing his collar bone, "Not really ... I quite like spending time alone with you."

"Wha – What?" he stammered, his eyes frantically searching hers in an attempt to detect the mocking sarcasm he was sure he'd find. She was not serious, as much as he wished she were ... she couldn't be ... Could she?

She grinned now. "I said, no, I don't want to wake half of the house up ... I'd like to have you to myself ... _alone_."

He felt as though she'd hit him around the head with _A History of Magic_. He still couldn't detect the usual mocking in her eyes. Was she really that good an actor? "Y – you do?"

Her grin was triumphant and she ran her fingers down his chest lightly; he shivered involuntarily. Where was Rose Weasley? Why wasn't she slapping him for some ridiculous reason? "Uh-huh," she said, running her hands back up his chest, stopping at the base of his neck. She pulled him in, his bare chest now brushed up against her cotton singlet, and their noses were touching. She was looking into his eyes expectantly, and he felt himself flush when she whispered, "Now, _can_ you still move those lips of yours?"

He was shocked. He no longer cared whether she was serious or not ... she seemed to be sincere, and he could take her teasing no longer. "Merlin's beard, _yes_," he breathed, before his eyes fluttered closed and he carefully pressed his lips to hers.

_(ROSE'S POV.)_

She couldn't believe it, she was kissing _Scorpius Malfoy_, and he was being _gentle_? He was cautious; after a few moments, he made to break the kiss, but Rose, wanting to tease and confuse him as much as he had her, opened her mouth to him ... hoping he would accept the invitation. Accept he did, though he remained gentle ... his soft lips delicately opening and closing against hers ... and to her surprise, she found it maddening.

Perhaps her cousins had been right, perhaps she did, on some level, fancy this boy. She found herself tugging on the hair at the nape of his neck, and she ground out a moan of frustration – after all of that tension, she'd been expecting passionate and frenzied, not gentle and caring. He seemed to take the moan as a pleasurable one, however, and it seemed to have stirred in him the passion she'd hoped for. She felt his tongue on the underside of her top lip, and barely heard his wand dropping loudly to the floor as he thrust both his hands into her hair. For hours, it seemed, they remained in the heated lip-lock, but it was in reality only minutes later when Scorpius began moving, backing her up against the hallway wall, that she realised she was free from the Enchanted Mistletoe. She broke away, gasping, her chest rising and falling rapidly and her cheeks ablaze. She _liked_ kissing Scorpius Malfoy ... perhaps she did fancy him. But ... How could she have not known it until now? Whatever the case may be ... she knew she would very much like to kiss him again.

Scorpius grinned down at her now, his hands idly toying with her dishevelled hair. "Rosie, I – that was ..."

His gaze was heated and full of passion, and she needed to follow through with her plan of leaving him confused and annoyed – go back to her room before they _did_ wake the half the house up with their antics.

"I know," she smiled at him, and it was genuine this time. She pushed against his chest and side-stepped out of his grasp. Her hand was on the handle of her bedroom door as she turned back to his confused face. "Just so you know Scorpius, you open your presents in the wrong order ..."

He moved to stand in front of her once more; his eyebrows knitted together in a way that only made him seem more attractive. "_What?_"

"Your Christmas presents? In your letter you said that you leave the best until last ... Well I disagree with that method. Why prolong the wait to have your most anticipated present? Why not experience the pleasure that _best _present brings straight away, as soon as possible?"

She leaned back into him, as she succumbed to her desire and kissed him roughly, but broke away before she lost herself. "For instance," she grinned at him, "would you've wanted to have waited until morning for _that ..._Your own _Rose_ for Christmas?"

He grinned broadly, and made to kiss her once more, but she quickly slipped into her bedroom, leaving the door open a crack to smile back at him. "Merry Christmas, Scorpius, I suppose you were right, I _could_ care less." With that, she closed the door with a flourish, leaving a thoroughly bewildered, yet exhilarated Scorpius standing in the hallway.

Moments later, she heard the sound of a door opening and closing, followed by the sing-song voice of Albus Potter. "_I told you so, _Rose! I _told – you – so!_"

So much for not waking up half of the house.

* * *

**_A/N: _**I know, the whole Enchanted Mistletoe thing ... it's been done a million times before, but I couldn't pass up the opportunity to have a crack at it myself!

Anyway, thanks for reading! :D


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